Perfection

Just ordinary people
Making do
On a windy afternoon
Weaving tales that never were
And of course never will be.

Striding down the mall
Nervous glances
Coffee on the park bench
Watching kids play
As the relentless sky
Looks on

Yet another day
No light
No chatter
No moon either

Perfection

Just the same song
In his head
In his mind
For no one
Least of all
For her

And yet
It never stops
The laughter
And loathing
Left behind
In a room
Full of ghosts